


A Dragon Does Not Weep

by YONTHEBARBIE



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Blood and Gore, But They Aren't Black, Daenerys Reconquers Valyria, Daenerys learns to forgive herself, Dragon Babies, Dragons, Drama, Eventual Jon Snow/Daenerys Targaryen, Eventual Romance, Eventual Smut, F/M, Jon earns his forgiveness, Jon is a King so He gonna act like it, Not Canon Compliant, Post-Canon, Post-Canon Fix-It, RIP BoatBaby, Slow Burn, Targaryen Restoration, The Characters Are More Black Than Grey I Guess, Valyria, book one of two, eventually
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-06
Updated: 2020-05-17
Packaged: 2021-01-23 23:28:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 6,126
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21328447
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/YONTHEBARBIE/pseuds/YONTHEBARBIE
Summary: It has been a year since the death of the Dragon Queen. In the West, chaos descends as new threats arise. In the East, dragons arise and a new era of the dragon begins.
Relationships: Jon Snow/Daenerys Targaryen
Comments: 73
Kudos: 183





	1. 00

**Author's Note:**

> * UNBETAED *

00 | For The Dragon Is

Only Sleeping

“The Gods love their games and unfortunately we are the pawns they use.”

**Daenerys i.**

She’d been floating in the darkness for what felt like years. There was nothing in the afterlife, just the dark. The pit of nothing that she drifted on like water.

She was dead, Daenerys knew that. The throbbing in her heart would not let her foggy mind forget it. The nothingness that surrounded her would not let her forget it. Was this where her mother was? Her old bear and sweet Missandei? Or was this nothingness just for her? Did the Gods think she didn’t deserve the light of the sun or the breeze the wind could give? Surely they did, surely she didn’t deserve her lemon tree or red door. Surely she was meant for this nothingness.

She could only vaguely remember the sharp pain then falling into the dark pit. Thrashing to get above the water that wouldn’t let her go. Eventually, she’d stopped struggling and allowed herself to drown. She’d come back up subdued and the starless black sky had become her friend. The silence had become a blessing, the ignorance a bliss. 

She no longer had to hear words in her ears. No longer did anyone demand anything of her. No longer did she have to hear the cries of her children. 

Children? She had children? Yes, her sweet Rhaego and her beautiful dragons. Her Viserion and Rhaegal weren’t here, so where were they?. The babe she’d never gotten to hold, where was he? And Drogon, her mightiest child, where was he? Was he ok?

Here she couldn’t feel him, the tether she’d had with him breaking with her death. Just as it did with Viserion and Rhaegal. She’d felt nothing but pain then, was that what Drogon felt? She hoped not, that pain was enough to kill. 

Above her, the darkness whispered in a saccharine voice, “Dragons do not sleep the Lord says.”

She ignores it and the throbbing in her heart at the words. But the shadows speak louder, commanding her, “The Lord says get up or are you lain?”

No, she’s dead, but she doesn’t care. The throbbing in her heart only turning to a flame as the dark continues to chant and anger envelops her. 

Who are they to demand anything of her? She wanted to rest but the voice wouldn't shut up. It’s a sweet tone replaced by a demanding one.

The voice screams again, “You are no dragon! You are a sheep!” 

Heat sears up and then there’s fire. The darkness is washed away with its heat, the light so bright it burns her closed eyelids but soon that fades to. For a dragon doesn’t burn. 

The flames engulf her, soothing her soul and her throbbing heart. And as the flames drown her, as the darkness is burned away and replaced by the light, she opens her eyes.

She’s no longer floating but standing. Her feet planted on the ground she can’t see or feel. Her bare legs wobble as she walks through the fire, following that infuriating voice. 

“Shut up.” It's only a mumble as her voice is hoarse from being unused but it’s still there. “Shut up.” It’s louder this time and the voice quiets for only a moment before it begins again this time surrounded by others. 

“Shut ** _UP_ **!” Its a screech that’s replaced by a roar and Daenerys knows it’s not hers. The light finally engulfs her and the sun finally is visible. But only slightly for the head of her remaining child blocks it. Her tears sizzle and burn away as she basks in the light.

  
  
  


The temple doesn’t have a roof which allowed Drogon to get as close as he did. 

Most of the priestesses had left when she’d woken up, all fluttering out of the room in flurries of red skirts. But one remains, a woman by the name of Kinvara. With dark hair and bright green eyes, she’s quite beautiful to look at. 

She stands across from Daenerys, a red gown similar to her own in hand. A smile pulls at her lips, “R’hllor and his followers welcome you back to the land of the living, Your Grace.”

Above her, Drogon twines his neck around the temple, “W-Where am I? Where _ was I?” _

The priestess walks to the stone table she’s sat on, passing her the gown before running her hand over her hair. Daenerys notes she emanates heat, the kind Daenerys usually found solace in. 

“You were dead, Your Grace. Stuck in the place between life and death as R’hllor fought for your soul. But he won and death let you go.” Kinvara says sweetly, not wanting to scare the Queen. “Your child brought you here, Volantis, so we may breathe life back into your fire.” 

Daenerys shakes her head, “I wanted- I wanted to rest. It was dark but I was at peace, please I can’t-“ She’s gone hysterical, sobs and wails building in her throat as her lashes grow heavy with her tears. Her child purrs remorsefully as Kinvara grips her face in her hands. 

“What is dead may never rest. Not with the evil that is going to take this world. For the bird comes, it comes with its dark feathers and cold gaze.” Kinvara says before getting up to allow her to dress, her words more confusing than scaring to Daenerys.

“Understand this, Your Grace, your enemy has died but another more powerful one has risen in their place. For what is dead may never stay dead.”

“I can’t, I won’t. Not for them-

Kinvara shakes her head, “Then do not fight for them, fight for your freedom.”

  
  


**Jon i. **

Sometimes, when the night is dark and full of terrors, Jon waits for them to take him. 

He waits for the ghost of his father to appear, disappointed. He waits for the ghost of Catelyn to mock him. He waits for the ghost of his love to finally rain fire down on him. 

But they never come, she never comes. And every night as he ventured back to his bed, Jon wept. Tears no longer came from his eyes, his mouth no longer opened to release his wails. It was in his heart, his heart cried because Jon understood he could no longer do it himself. 

His dreams were his only escape, and even then horror still ate at them. His father’s own head never on his shoulders, Robb’s face always replaced with his direwolf’s, Daenerys bosom always black and twisted where the wound over her chest stretched. 

The cold of the true North, neither helped nor bothered his dreams. 

Not long ago Jon had abandoned his post at the Wall. No one had stopped him, there weren’t many to stop him in the first place. He’d left with the FreeFolk, more willing to spend the rest of his guilt-ridden life with them more than at Castle Black and it’s dark walls. 

Jon didn’t truly know why he’d agreed to join them in the beginning. Maybe he was simply tired of being there, maybe he couldn’t stomach being in the place where he was betrayed knowing he’d done the same to his Queen. At the moment, it hadn’t mattered and Jon had watched as the gates closed behind him, his duty to the realm once again forsaken. 

At least out in the true North, he could face his demons privately if need be. He could turn away if the dead form of Daenerys appeared in front of him. He could leave his bed if she suddenly appeared next to him. 

“Aye! Lil’ Crow! Ya’ got a bird!”

Jon turns at the sound of his giant friend, his boisterous tone a direct contrast to Jon’s mood. In his hands, Tormund holds a yellowish paper. 

Yanking his glove off, Jon takes it already thinking it’s from Sansa asking him to return back to the Wall. It would join the others in the flame of his campfire.

_ ‘ Jon, I do not know if this letter will find you as I am unsure if any of the previous ones have. But this is urgent and can not be ignored. As of the last year Bran has been watching for any sign of the Mad Queen’s remaining Dragon and finally after so long he has found him but at a cost. The Dragon was last seen flying over Volantis. At first, Bran simply monitored it but the dragon began burning his Ravens and spies. Bran believes it is Daenerys Targaryen, yet he can not be sure seeming as he can not see into the city any longer. The dragon won’t allow it. Please, respond back. If Bran’s suspicions are correct and Daenerys is alive, we will have a problem on our hands I fear no one is ready for. ‘ _

Jon crumbles up the parchment, stomping out any hope that blooms in his chest. Rumors, simply rumors. 

“Lil’ Crow? Ya’ alright?”

He resists the urge to shake his head and nods with a tut of his tongue. “Aye, Sansa wants me back at the Wall.” He lies easily. 

Tormund rubs his beard, “Ya’ going to?” he asks to which Jon shakes head. “Nothing’s down South, my home is here.”

Nothing at all. 


	2. 01

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We catch up with Kingslanding and Daenerys makes a discovery.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *UNBETAED*

01 | For the West Knows

No Peace

“Neither me nor my dragons are your slaves.”

**Daenerys ii.**

She didn’t leave the temple she’d been awakened in. Her only companion was Drogon, who never stayed for long no matter how much she begged him to. Whatever he was doing outside the temple walls was obviously important. Most days Daenerys didn’t leave her room and everything she needed to survive was usually brought to her, this was not one of those days. 

Drogon was gone by the time she had opened her eyes and Kinvara stood on the edge of the stone table Daenerys called her bed. The priestess once again held the dress she’d tried giving her when she’d first woken up. Daenerys had tossed the thing away after seeing the dragon brooch and the amount of skin it showed on her chest.

She was not ready to deal with the scar over her heart. If she did, not only would she have to face herself but the memory of the man who’d put it there. Those were truths Daenerys were not ready to handle. But Kinvara doesn’t care, tossing the dress at her.

“No longer can you hide behind these walls. You may not be ready but you must venture out into the world.”

Daenerys clenches the crimson fabric in hands contemplating her next actions but the look Kinvara gives her makes Daenerys understand she has no choice. Slowly Daenerys climbs down from her table, her legs buckling under her weight. She hadn’t moved from the table since she had woken up from it so Daenerys wasn’t surprised when Kinvara had to help her maintain her balance. 

She’s helped from the table and Kinvara helps her into the gown. Daenerys is sudden when Missandei’s face flashed in her mind. Her sweet friend had helped her every morning and every night. Dressing her and providing her the female companionship Daenerys often felt she lacked. Missandei was gone now like everyone else that entered her life.

“Come now, Your Grace. The sun awaits.” Kinvara says as she ties the knot of her dress around her neck.

  
  
  


From her stone table, Daenerys had been able to see the sky constantly yet it did not compare being able to walk through the city as the wind blew. Outside more than the sun greets Daenerys, but life. It was strange seeming as up until that moment all she knew was death.

Walking down the temple stairs on her own was much more troublesome than she had liked but she does it on her own. Stopping to sit on the bottom stair, her legs stretched out in front of her. Kinvara trails behind her quietly, “Fear is a powerful emotion. It can be the thing that motivates you or the thing that destroys you.”

“Not fearing killed me,” Daenerys says with a shake of her head, “Not fearing that anymore could be taken from me.” Her sweetest child, her old bear, her beloved Rhaegal, her precious Missandei. “I learned that life continues to take, no matter the sacrifices. Not fearing killed everyone I cared about, not fearing made me arrogant and in the end I died for it. Everyone that had died for me forsaken and forgotten.” 

She doesn’t want to think of her nephew, she wants him as far from her mind as possible. Yet, his face still flashes behind her eyelids. Had he felt when Rhaegal had been shot from the sky? Surely he had to, but on Dragonstone he hadn’t asked her. Hadn’t gone looking for her fallen child. Maybe he hadn’t for her son cared at all.

“You will forsaken them if you do not continue your conquest. R’hllor brought you back for a reason, Your Grace.”

Daenerys immediately shakes her head, “And what reason could that be? I have nothing but fear in the West.”

There’s a shuffling of feet as Kinvara comes to stand next to Daenerys, arms in her long sleeves as her lips pull into a smile, “The Lord never spoke of going back West, Your Grace.”

  
  
  
  


**Tyrion i.**

Kingslanding was a rotting pile of shit. With a King that did nothing and the ever growing unrest or the citizens, Tyrion had to realize that Kingslanding simply was a city he could not fix. The destruction Daenerys had left was too great and the imp was certain she could’ve been the one to fix it.

He remembers telling Jon to ask him in ten years if he regretted his decisions. It hasn’t taken long at all for Jon Snow to regret his own but Tyrion did not. Once, he had believed in Daenerys, her cause, her motivations, but that was before she had gone mad. Before she’d turned half a million people into ash. He was not proud of his betrayal, far from it, but he was not ashamed of what he’d done. It was best for the realm and at the time it had coincided with his own personal interest. 

Yet, both a tyrant and the mad queen were dead and the realm still fell into despair. Yara, ever the loya to Daenerys, wanted to retreat from the last Six Kingdoms. She razed every coastal village from Dorne to the North to prove her point. She wanted no compromises either, the last raven Tyrion haven’t seen coming back with its wings tore and its eyes picked out. 

_ ‘Fuck the crown, Fuck the raven’ _written in Yara’s surprisingly neat handwriting. 

Dorne was no different, wanting to recede and refusing to trade with Westeros till it was allowed to do so. 

Tyrion has tried to get around the trade deficit by conferencing with Essos but it realm might as well had spat in his face. Conquered by Daenerys it was ran under her by the sellsword Daario, the mercenary had blatantly written he’d rather go to war with the West than trade with them. 

In economic ruin, Tyrion could only think how even in a grace somewhere, Daenerys had still won. Still conquered and left them in waste.

“This is a council meeting not a tavern, Lord Hand.”

He ignores Brienne’s hard blue gaze. Never had he cared what people thought of his drinking and he wouldn’t start now. 

“Yes,” He sets down his Ambor Gold, “One that hasn’t officially started yet.”

Brienne narrows her eyes, the big woman looking as if she wished to step on him. Instead, she puffs out her chest before turning back to the table. 

“I think we all could use a drink,” Davos interjects with dry humor to which Tyrion only brings his cup back to his lips. Sam, who’s been watching the exchange quietly, gives a soft, fake laugh but no one is truly amused. 

“News from the North?” Tyrion asks already knowing there is. Sansa had been asking for help in rebuilding and replenishing Winterfell’s stocks for weeks. Many times they’d told there Queen no. There was a little food in the South as there was in the North.

Brienne shakes her head, “Her Grace has only been communicating with the King for days. A raven may come or go every day if I am keeping track correctly. I think something has happened.”

“Something good hopefully,” Sam says but the Knight shakes her head and Tyrion narrows his eyes. What could go wrong in the North that’s hadn’t already gone wrong?

“Sansa would’ve let us know by now if so. I believe-“ She stops, face contorting in pain. “I believe it has something to do with the Mad Queen.”

“She’s dead!” Tyrion immediately snaps, “Probably in the belly of her last beast.”

“Her incredibly large and _ alive _beast.” Sam says lowly, “Dragons are intelligent creatures, never has the last one struck me as dumb.”

Tyrion clenched his teeth, Daenerys words loud in his head. _ ‘A dragon is not a slave’ _

Drogon has proved time and time again her words true. Whenever he disobeyed or ignored his mother, Tyrion knew he was an intelligent monster. 

“Do you think it’s going to come back?” Sam’s voice is drenched in panic, no doubt little Sam and a pregnant Gilly were in his mind. 

“Aye and when it does it will surely remember our faces.” Davos says, sad resignation on his old face. He ages ten more years in those seconds. 

As silence settles back into the council room Tyrion fills his cup up again with vigor, Daenerys voice loud and mocking.

_ ‘A dragon is not a slave, Tyrion’ _

  
  
  
  


**Daenerys iii.**

Drogon has made his nest in one of the deserted temples. Goat bones and carcasses litter the floor and many times Daenerys catches her feet on one. 

Her son’s big head turns as she enters rumbling softly at the unexpected intrusion. Daenerys takes it with a grain of salt and settles down into the crook of his open wing.

“Kinvara says you’ve been eating much more than usual.”

Drogon gives a smoky huff before lifting his wing his belly protruding oddly. Daenerys immediately thinks the worst, fingers going to push at the soft, underbelly skin. 

She instantly thinks her son has stupidly swallowed rocks but banished the thought, cursing herself for thinking such foolishness of her child. 

Fingers still going over the skin, Daenerys counts five protrusions in total. Drogon purrs happily at the ministrations, moving to lay on his side completely. It strikes Daenerys just how big he’s gotten then, if not wing size but his belly. Large and round and realization dawns in her as she recognizes the symptoms she’s gone through herself all those moons ago. 

She pulls her fingers back and Drogon looks at her expectantly, “You’re pregnant.” 

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi again!
> 
> How are you all today? Thank you for the comments and kudos last chapter. How did you all like this chapter? Let me know and thank you all for reading!
> 
> I UPDATED THE TAGS


	3. 02

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jon learns some things and Daenerys says goodbye.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *UNBETAED*

02 | The Desolate And

The Failure

“She was always warm. It was the dragon in her.”

**Jon ii.**

_ Even with her beside him, his bed is cold. The heat she once emanated extinguished. _

_ “I’m sorry,” _

_ His bedmate doesn’t react, she never does. Jon didn’t understand why he held onto the hope that she would. She only appeared to offer her tormenting company. Quiet, but there and unyielding. She never spoke, only listened to the apologies she would never accept. _

_ “I should’ve helped you,” He whispers, fingers coming up to glide over the smooth, pale skin of her arm. “I should’ve been there for you.” _

_ She doesn’t move and Jon feels his stomach drop. He’s talking to a corpse. Daenerys isn’t really there, she’s dead. _

_ She’s dead _

_ She’s dead _

_ She’s dead _

_ Tears burn Jon’s eyes as he struck again by what he’s done to her. By what the world has done to her. _

_ Shaking his head, Jon weeps freely as he gathers his love into his arms. “You should be here. We should be together.” _

_ He hugs her together, “I’m sorry, Dany. I’m so fucking sorry.” He rocks her softly, only stopping when Daenerys’ limp hand grabs his own. _

  
  
  


Jon accepted he would never know peace. Too many years of fighting and death made sure of it. 

It had been three moons since he’d received Sansa’s letter and Jon had yet to see any signs of Drogon or any other dragons she had spoken of in her missive. As he’d thought, rumors. Daenerys was dead and he would live with the guilt forever. 

Jon could vividly remember seeing the realization light up in her eyes. Realization that he’d betrayed her trust and become everything she feared. It was strange, Jon was sure the same look had flickered upon his face when she and Drogon had rained fire on Kinglanding. In the end peace or not, they were both wrong. He was just the one alive to deal with the guilt.

  
  
  


Tormund had finally decided to plant his seed and it had sprouted. Earlier that morning the big fool had welcomed a healthy babe. A pale squabbling thing with Tormund’s flaming hair. Though painful flashes of dark-haired, violet-eyed babes had fluttered through his own mind, Jon was happy for his friend. Somebody deserved a little happiness.

To celebrate the birth of a new life, no danger but the North itself for the babe, the Freefolk decided to throw a small feast. Gathering several of the stores of meat they could spare for that night, the Freefolk celebrated Tormund’s new baby girl.

Men and women laughed as they danced and sang with each other. Jon could see Ghost bouncing several children on his back as he trotted to and fro. On his own arm, a blonde-haired woman sung along to a song. Fires lit up her sky-blue eyes and Jon swears they turn violet when she looks up at him. Her hair turns a icy-platinum and her eyebrows go dark.

He yanks his arm free.

“Crow?”

Jon shakes his head, “I have to— I have to go.” He whistles, Ghost’s head popping up before shooting over to his side, children forgotten. Jon anchors his fingers in his companion’s fur, trying to ground himself in something, _ anything. _

The two leave the feast quietly, the warmth from the fire fading as they walked further away and towards the small hut Jon called his own. 

The dark grows colder and the air around them goes silent. The moon illuminated a small path in the snow. 

Ghost stops suddenly, teeth snapping at something in the distance. Though still ungrounded and unsteady, Jon grips _ Longclaw _. The wolf pommel heavy and comforting in his hand. 

A black horse quickly comes into vision, and Jon think it’s death. Finally come to take him and give him the peace he wants. Finally come to take him to Daenerys but the black cloaked figure dashes his hopes and his shoulders sag. It is only a Black Brother.

The horse comes to a stop and the brother timidly steps closer, eyes on Ghost. Jon notices the second horse then. He takes the parchment with an uneasy sigh, the Stark sigil is apparent.

“The Queen wrote a separate missive saying it was urgent you received this. I rode as fast as I could.” 

Jon unrolls the paper, it’s only a line but the way it’s written shows it was written in haste.

_ ‘Daenerys Targaryen is alive. Come quickly to Winterfell.’ _

  
  
  


**Daenerys iv.**

Daenerys clutched one of Drogon’s eggs in her hands. Cream and gold colored, it reminded her of Viserion. The other four Drogon keeps nestled under his wing. One is silver, another a pale gold. The third is a fiery red and orange, the last pale blue and a vibrant purple. All wonders of the world and what Daenerys supposed she could call her grandchildren. Seeming as all were Drogon’s soon to be hatchlings.

The thought made Daenerys heart weep, her child would have children. A family of his own. 

“Hold onto them tightly and never let go.” She whispers to her last child. She’d already lost so much, her chosen family, her three children, the small swell in her belly she hadn’t even known she had. 

“Death must pay for life,” A red priestess had said, one of the many that had taken care of her body as she floated in the abyss. “Though he fought for you the Lord still had to make a choice, you or the babe? He chose you.” 

She’d miscarried they said, bled out on her stone table. Daenerys had wept and wept and wept. Another thing gone and dead because she was foolish enough to believe she could have it. 

Daenerys settles back against Drogon, putting the eggs in her lap as she closed her eyes, exhaustion taking her. In their ignorant bliss, they never notice the flock of ravens watching them. 

  
  
  


She tugged the brush through her hair, unaccustomed to the matted mess it had become on her head. Her days in the fields outside of Volantis with Drogon had been long and she hadn’t thought to bring a brush to keep her locks in check. 

Setting the brush down, Daenerys sighs dejectedly. Missandei would know what to do, what oils and clays to put in her hair to return it to its natural state, but Missandei wasn’t here. She was gone, hopefully not floating in that horrid darkness. Neither was Jorah or Qhono, her children or the Dothraki or Unsullied. All gone and perished for her negligence. 

Losses, failures.

Drogo would have been disappointed, so would Ser Barristan and Olenna and Ellaria. 

She brung shame upon the Dothraki, sentencing them to death by icy hands, Kingslanding, the ultimate catastrophe in her campaign. Failures upon failures. 

Without thought, Daenerys takes a blade to her hair. Slicing until the only thing that is on her hair is a slight curly fuzz. 

“Oh Daenerys, what have you done?” 

Daenerys ignores Kinvara, using her hands to wipe away any last strands of long hair. 

“Ridding myself on my failures.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i must say i am not sorry with the turn of events. But Jon is gonna get his shot together and Daenerys is currently getting her shit together. I updated the tags and summary again so yeah.
> 
> Thank for the comments and kudos, i really do love them. Anyway, any thoughts on this chapter ?


	4. 03

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sōvegon

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *UNBETAED*
> 
> ! FILLER ¡

03 | Sōvegon

“It means to fly.”

**Daenerys v. **

“When was the last time you spoke to your sellsword?” Kinvara asks, finger rubbing the ointment into Daenerys scalp. In her haste to get rid of her hair, Daenerys had nicked herself more than she would’ve liked. She shrugs, “I-I don’t know.” 

Kinvara snorts, it’s clear she’s disappointed. “You left your people in his hands and you _ don’t know _the last times you spoke to him? 

“I left him to defend Essos,” Daenerys quickly tries to defend herself but the look on her caregiver’s face makes her bite her tongue. It feels like a mother reprimanding a naughty child. 

“Yes you did, in _ your _name. You sailed to Westeros and your need to help them consumed you.”

Daenerys didn’t disagree, she dare not because she knew it was true. It almost makes her laugh, she’d rebuked Jon for having a hero complex but she’d had the same. It was a shame of where that had gotten them. 

“They call you mother and this is how you treat them? Forget about them?” The witch crosses her arms over her chest, 

“I didn’t-“ Daenerys rubs her eyes as they burn with tears. Had she done those things? An irresponsible queen, a false mother? Had she been those things? “I didn’t forget them, I wanted to help the people in Westeros.”

“And how did that end?” Kinvara drops her hands as Daenerys shoulders begin to shake, “Listen to me, Your Grace. You had a duty then and you have a duty now and it’s to your people in Essos.” 

  
  
  


Daenerys seeks out her child after her conversation with Kinvara. The woman had a way of hitting points others could not, she told the truth even if Daenerys didn’t wish to here it. 

“I suppose you're disappointed in me to.” 

Drogon looks up from nudging his eggs, wings folding in front of him before laying his head on them. Daenerys reaches out to the tether between them, heat flailing up behind her eyelids as he answers.

Yes.

She gives a rueful smile as she pads closer, dropping to sit cross-legged. “You have every right to be.” She pats her snout softly, “I could’ve done better, I understand that now.” 

Drogon snorts, wispy smoke surrounding her. It causes Daenerys to smile, “That’s my boy.” 

  
  
  


It’s a day of considering and another day and half of gathering the courage to tell Kinvara she was leaving for Essos. The woman arches a trimmed brow before giving her an empty sack to her, “For the eggs, so you don’t drop them.” 

“R’hllor gives you his blessing, _ I _give you my blessings.” It feels like a goodbye, and Daenerys has had enough of goodbyes. “Can’t you come along?”

Kinvara gives a sorrowful shake of her head, “For now, I’m needed here. This is something you must do yourself, Daenerys. I know it’s not something you want to do at this time, it’s something that you _ need _to do.”

What was it that she had said once, she was no little princess. It was best she stopped thinking like one. Breathing heavily, “Thank you, Kinvara. For everything.”The witch smiles before tapping her shoulder, “It was my honor, Daenerys.” 

She spares a final glance back, eyes taking in the temple that had been her place of peace for weeks. She says goodbye.

Drogon and his eggs are waiting for her at the bottom of the temple stairs. Daenerys quickly loads the eggs into the tote before climbing her son’s wing. She hasn’t been on his back since Kingslanding, so it takes several seconds of calming herself before she can grip his spine confidently. 

She looks up to the sky, blinking up at the clear blueness of it. “Sōvegon.”

  
  


**KingsLanding. **

It’s the birds, the ravens that scare the civilians the most. They were everywhere, those ravens. Watching everything everyone did. Crimes were known before they commited, and slowly the city was turning against their King. 

They didn’t understand, of course. They didn’t know why a man’s hand was being taken for stealing if he hadn’t done it yet. Why a woman was being beheaded for murder if she hadn’t even chosen her victim yet. 

But Bran, Bran didn’t care. Emotionless as he was, he felt this was his duty as the King. To rid the world of mold before it could fully grow. 

It was why he watched, or at least tried to watch, Daenerys Targaryen remaining dragon for as long as he did. It was too active for his liking, too alive_ . _Like his mother wasn’t dead, like he wasn’t the last of his kind. Bran had seen the beast’s reaction to finding his mother’s body, so he understood what was happening around him perfectly. 

It had taken days but slowly it dawned on him, the beast had eggs, one of its brothers impregnating him. It was strange to think about, seeing as Bran had never thought of the dragon as female but then he remembered dragons didn’t have genders.

But that wasn’t the only reason, no, his flock had seen them, seen _ her _. Alive as if she had any right to be after everything she’d done. And now, she was flying. Not towards Westeros , of course she wouldn’t, but towards Essos. For what, Bran didn’t know but it was enough for him to call for Podrick, 

“Write to Sansa, Jon needs to get to Winterfell now.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- a filler to get Daenerys Timeline and Jon’s Timeline up to date with eachother.
> 
> -This is a birthday gift for myself , i turn 18 Saturday and ima be in quarantine


	5. 04

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jon Snow

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *UNBEATED*

04 | The Lone Wolf

“The pack survives but as the lone wolf, I survived just as fine”

**Jon iii.**

He could count on one hand how many battles he’d fought for himself. All the while, too many battles had been fought for a better cause. For the people of the realm, for humanity, for the Starks. 

And for that he was tired. Jon was _ tired _. Bone tired and frankly simply because of that Jon was tempted to send the Black Brother back to the wall and once again ignore Sansa’s letter. But foolishly, Jon had only blinked before continuing onto his hut. “Mid-light tomorrow. Be ready.”

He slept uneasily that night.

Now Tormund watched as Jon packed his few things, “Ya’ know you don’t have to go.” 

“And have Sansa travel to The Wall only for me to not be there?” Jon scoffed, “She’ll turn this entire continent upside down.” Tormund hums in understanding, knowing what he knew about Jon’s sister, he had no doubt about his friend’s assessment. “You believe her?”

“Believe what?” Jon questions but he wasn’t stupid, foolish with matters of the heart, but far from stupid. He knew what Tormund was asking but he’d rather stall then give himself the opportunity to answer the question. Then give himself that hope that Daenerys was alive, that she was living and breathing. Because truly, was Daenerys alive? Did he believe that she was alive?

He was alive wasn’t he, after being stabbed in the heart? It had been magic that brought him back and Dany had magic coursing through her very veins. 

_ “Magic is strange but I believe it,” _ She’d said to him one night on the boat, a time that seemed so far away. _ “Magic brought my children into the world. It kept me from burning when I stepped onto the pyre with my first husband and baby.” _

Daenerys had giggled, utterly feminine and hers, at the look of confusion on his face. _ “My title of Unburnt isn’t simply a nickname, Jon Snow.” _

“I don’t know, I’m here.” Jon whispers to his friend, eye downcast, sad. 

“And if she isn’t?” Tormund questions, “If this is some trap to officially get rid of you? She had no problem tossing you up here despite what you were going through?”

Jon gives a sorrowful smile, “Then it’s been fun knowing you Tormund Giantsbane.”

_ “And if he kills me?” _

_ “Your company will be missed, Jon Snow.” _

  
  
  


Tormund sees him off and Jon knows this may be the last time he ever sees his friend. It’s far too bittersweet for his liking so he doesn’t spare a glance back as he kicks his horse into a soft trot. 

It would take a day and a half to get to The Wall and another three days to get to Winterfell. He was far from comfortable with seeing Sansa again, knowing what he knew about her betrayal, about Tyrion’s betrayal, he didn’t want to sit in front of her and pretend he was ok. He didn’t want to sit in front of her at all. 

But she didn’t know he wasn’t at The Wall, and if her missive went ignored, just as he’d told Tormund, she’d make her own way up there. 

Sparing a glance at the Black Brother, the man didn’t look like anybody he had ever seen before. “What else has the Queen in the North sent to Castle Black?”

The Brother’s face contorts as he thinks, “Nothing, she sends little resources but we have to send reports every fortnight,” He says brows crinkling, “Lots of the men wanted to leave after you did, forsake their vows.”

“Most men do,” Jon sighs, “but why did they after I left?”

“Disease and infection,” The man says sorrowfully, “One of the men got injured and the wound got infected, pretty soon anybody who was treating it was dying. When we wrote to the Queen she said it was Castle Black’s problem.”

“No resources and no help,” Jon shakes his head, he shouldn’t have been surprised. For all the bullshit she sprouted about being Queen, she wasn't being a good one. Everything was about Sansa, the men at Castle Black were the last thing she was going to be worried about. 

“News travels fast, gossip travels even faster.” The man says quietly, almost afraid someone would hear him, like someone was listening.  
  
“Gossip?”

“Those Southerners ain’t too happy down there. Not too fond of the King or his Hand. Killing men and women for crimes they didn’t commit. Murdering children for lives they hadn’t even lived yet.”

Jon fills his stomach churn, children? Innocent children, innocent men, innocent women. For what? For a vision? A future that wouldn’t even truly come true. He’d murdered the woman he loved for that same reason, to protect the realm from _ her. _And here he was finding out one of the people he’d protected from her was committing the same crime.

“Maybe you could talk to the Queen, truly see what’s going on.” The man says finally, ceasing all conversation and leaving Jon within his own head. Bran was committing unjust execution, did Sansa know? Did Arya? 

Talk to the Queen, talk to Sansa. She knew this, she had too. And he would find out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don’t really like how forceful the end of this chapter is, but it’s something right? Because I’m not a Jon stan i cant really write chapters on him and I’m pretty sure Im just gonna add Heiress to the story and let her write Jon’s POVs
> 
> i don’t know if i ever said this but this is book one of two :)
> 
> and thanks for all the comments, kudos, and bookmarks. They really do mean a lot :*

**Author's Note:**

> So the only reason I took down the first story is that Heiress wants to be a co-writer, which is absolutely fine since it is her original idea, so it's gonna be rewritten and reposted on her account. So while we're waiting on her, enjoy this :)
> 
> I still need to know how to post those moodboards, so like, spare knowledge pleathe.


End file.
